“For several years now, James Mathison (Caracas, 1966) has been tirelessly evolving the human theme, that bodily shell which every so often cries out for spiritual reappraisal. His undertaking is tireless as if nothing had happened since Adam’s downfall or as if art had not exhausted that quest for likeness that has driven it since the dawn of time. The question is still present in the bronzed flesh of his sculptures, in the dismembered bodies and the anatomical fragments that abound at their risk in his workshop. Heads, arms and hands prefigure the unfinished humanity of the subject, perched atop the abyss. There it sits, a blank page waiting for the artist to etch or emboss its surface with lines, text, hollows, grids, warps and wefts.”
Félix Suazo.
